The Battles You Choose
by Miss-Riah
Summary: Rock knew that tone all too well and he knew it was the best time to back down if you didn't have enough conviction built up to fight her. He'd gotten pretty good at picking and choosing his battles with her, and he'd won a few of them too, but she was a brazen soldier who didn't dally in the matters of striking once the canons fired.


**The Battles You Choose**

She was quite possibly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Long tan legs that disappeared under her denim daisy duke shorts that hugged her tight ass in a sinful way. Her curves were shaped perfectly as they dipped at her waist and rose again to run up to her rib cage and meet her breasts that were a little more than generous in size. The tattoo that cascaded up her arm and creeped up her neck often made him swallow before his eyes landed on her long hair. How he wished she would wear it down more often; he'd always loved long hair, but her's was so exquisite. Maybe it was because most women had black or brown hair where he was from, but he loved her dark red hair. What he really loved though were her eyes— more so when they weren't glaring. She had the most dazzling amber eyes; he'd stare into them forever if she wouldn't plant a bullet in his forehead.

Rock never thought in his wildest dreams that he would fall in love with a woman like Revy; a woman who was all gun smoke and alcohol with a bite like a cobra, but the natural beauty of a tigress. She was dangerous and terrifying, but those aspects lured him in all the same. He figured he'd hit his head too many times, or that living in Roanapur had corrupted his views on societal expectations of women, but he didn't care. This was Revy. She was 100% unadulterated. She said what she wanted and did what she wanted and no one could stop her. She was independent and sharp, but raw in every way.

The ex-businessman always assumed he would find 'love' in a Japanese woman with black hair and brown eyes much like his own. She would probably be meek and shy, but kind and gentle. She'd dress conservatively and there probably wouldn't be much of a daring bone in her body. She'd probably be proper and book smart. She would have been the kind of girl he could have brought home to his parents.

But God, after spending so much time with Two-Hands he found the idea of such a girl to be boring. There was a lot to be said about a nice and gentle woman— sometimes Rock wished Revy were just a tiny bit more so. However, there was something grand about a woman who was loud and unafraid. He was proud to be so close to someone like Revy; thrilled that she wasn't the kind of girl he could bring home to his mother and father; ecstatic that she was in his bed right now and that, for the time being, he didn't have to share her with anyone else.

His eyes scanned her figure that was hugged by the bedsheets. Somehow the crumpled sheets that outlined her body's shape made her even sexier. She was laying on her stomach with her face facing Rock. Her hair was a mess, but she slept so peacefully that she almost seemed like a different person. Revy was an enigma, and he doubted he'd ever figure her out completely, but he'd be lying if he said that aspect didn't excite him.

Rock laid his head back down on his pillow while still staring at his bedmate. What he wouldn't give to have more of her, and not just this cheap-ass friends-with-benefits relationship they had going right now. Though he supposed he couldn't complain entirely about their new found role in each other's lives. The sex was incredible and he enjoyed the physical closeness that it brought before and after the fact— like having her in his bed and waking up with their legs entangled, or waking up to find her draped over his body.

Despite this, he knew he wanted something that Revy may very well outright refuse to give. She was like a wild mustang. She couldn't be tamed and wouldn't allow herself to be tied down. Talking about her feelings wasn't something she excelled in— in fact she usually only ever showed boiling rage, good humor, or dry wit; occasionally she displayed that appeared to be sadness lost in a shroud of deep thought, but he could never get her to spill the beans.

An enigma, this woman.

Sighing quietly, Rock closed his eyes and tried to let himself drift back to sleep. His mind kept wandering back to his internal romantic struggle, so he tried thinking about their job tomorrow. Once he focused on that he felt his body get tense and he couldn't relax. As a final resort he began counting, which was something that NEVER worked for him as a kid.

He got to seventy-five and no closer to the sandman's door when he heard his partner shift next to him. His eyes snapped open as Revy rolled over and sighed, blearily opening her eyes.

"Hey," Rock said.

"Jesus, did you ever go to sleep?" her voice was husky and groggy, but the sound of it made Rock's lips tilt upward slightly.

"No," he sighed.

Revy scoffed, "Aren't guys supposed to pass out after they blow a load?" the legendary two hands sat up in bed, letting the sheets fall away from her form.

She sat like that for a nearly a minute, and Rock could only stare. Her naked torso was beautiful; her curves, her ample breasts, her tan skin, her mussed hair. She climbed out of bed with a utterance of needing to 'take a leak' and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Rock rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. God he should be so happy right now— and he supposed he was— he had sex with a hot woman who many men desired and feared. And not just once, but multiple times. And she wasn't just some hot woman, Revy was one of the most incredible women he'd ever met, and was easily his best friend.

But God. How he wanted more than just a quick romp in the sack with her. He wanted to hold her without taking her from behind; to touch her face without having to deepen a harsh kiss; to hold her hand instead of pinning them above her head as she shouted for him to plow harder. Slow— he wanted to make love to her slowly, not fuck her in a blind senseless rush. He wanted to kiss her deeply without sudden movements from their hips. He wanted more time to explore her body with his hands, rather than just immediately grabbing her hips and sliding in and out until one of them exploded.

Perhaps more horrifying than all of that, Rock wanted to tell her all of the things that passed through his mind about her everyday. To tell her she looked lovely, that she was beautiful no matter what— even when she was piss-fire angry. To tell her that it didn't feel like a normal day unless he heard her voice; that her voice was sexy, especially when she spoke in a whisper. To tell her she was so much more to him than 'Miss Rebecca' or 'Two-Hands'; she was extraordinary.

To tell her he loved her.

She'd shoot his balls off for that. It would be the end of this good thing they had going. He knew he couldn't have her in the ways he wanted. Revy was a wild fire and she couldn't be contained. She was dangerous and unpredictable, but maybe that's why he was drawn to her.

The sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running jarred him out of his thoughts. His object of adoration walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light and shutting the door behind her. A sigh escaped her lips as she crawled back into bed, "So…what is it?"

"Huh?"

"You know," she started, "What's got you up? What's on your mind? You're always passed out most of the night— especially after sex."

Rock smiled, "Guess you know me a little too well."

Revy scoffed "Tch, I better— especially after all of the shit we've been through."

Rock didn't respond; his smile dropped and his gaze fixating onto the ceiling again. He could lie— he was really good at lying. But Revy was also really good at catching lies.

When he didn't answer right away, Revy scooted closer to him and rested her torso over his.

Her face was only eight inches away from his own, and Rock took in the feeling. Her stomach pressed against his in a calm manner as they both breathed in unison. Her voluminous breasts pushed against is chest; softer than the pillow below his head. He could only make out her silhouette in the darkness of the room, but he could see the her eyes and her lips as they dared him to speak. "Come on, Rock," she lowered her head so that her forehead was resting against his and their noses brushing together. "Spill it."

He tilted his head slightly, closing his eyes and preparing himself, "You won't like it,"

"I never like anything that goes on in that fuckin' head of yours,"

By that he was sure she meant his constant struggle with his morals, but he'd try not to think about those right now. "I guess I was thinking about…us."

There was an unsettling silence that followed; one he almost couldn't bear as his heart rate quickened. He prayed she couldn't tell.

Revy knew she didn't like where this was going. But she'd give him a chance to bail out, "…What about 'us', Rock?"

There was a warning in her tone; Rock knew that tone all too well and had it was the best time to back down if you didn't have enough conviction built up to fight her. He'd gotten pretty good at picking and choosing his battles with her, and he'd won a few of them too, but she was a brazen soldier who didn't dally in the matters of striking once the canons fired.

"Just…" he wasn't sure this was a fight he wanted to have— at least not right now. "Us."

There was a silence, and he knew that his answer had been unsatisfactory. He could almost hear the growl of a tigress in his room. "How things have changed…where we are…" He hoped he left it vague enough for her to grasp at what straw she wanted and just leave it be.

There was another beat of silence, but it wasn't as odious as the last. "…Yeah," she agreed softly. "We've got a good thing goin' here." It was spoken casually; calm and secure. She must have relaxed enough herself to let her threatening guard down, and lay her head down on his chest.

Rock wrapped his arms around her, careful not to caress her back too much and lead her to further question his previous answer.

He'd talked his way out of another troublesome situation— just like he always did. Sometimes he disgusted himself— but he'd always choose words over violence and, and he knew he wasn't ready to drop the bomb of deep affection on Revy. She'd probably never be ready; but he'd try and plan it and word it right that maybe she could handle it easier.

Closing his eyes, he focused on her breathing and the warmth of her skin beneath his palms.

Yeah, he'd lost this battle; forfeited in favor of peace. But he hadn't lost the war.

* * *

 _This was actually written quite a while ago. Whoops! I didn't really decide to share it until now. So I hope you fellow Black Lagoon fans enjoy!_


End file.
